The Crossing: Armenians Arriving in Los Angeles via Mexico

Sona* was seven months pregnant when she crossed the United States-Mexico border with her husband and two young children. The family had left Yerevan in a hurry, packing only their most essential belongings in a few small bags. 

“​​We didn’t take anything from our home. Absolutely nothing,” Sona says. “We left only with the clothes on our backs.”

Sona is one of thousands of Armenians who, in recent years, have journeyed through Mexico for a new life in California. Yet in sunny Los Angeles, known worldwide as a city of dreamers and storytellers, many Armenian immigrants have discovered that their reality looks different from what they see in the movies.

Data provided to EVN Report by the U.S. federal government reveal a dramatic increase in the number of Armenian nationals crossing the southwest border following the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh War. This trend speaks to the urgency and desperation of those leaving a country plagued by conflict. Many migrants, like Sona, are seeking asylum due to different forms of persecution, while others are escaping the fallout from the war. 

“After the war of September [2020], I started noticing a huge influx,” says Meline Mailyan, an immigration attorney practicing in the Los Angeles suburb of Glendale. Mailyan recalls a client who boarded the first plane out of Yerevan when military-eligible men were allowed to leave the country following the ceasefire that ended the 44-Day War.

According to U.S. Customs and Border Protection, the number of Armenian nationals crossing the southwest border with Mexico has skyrocketed over the past five years. The number rose from 362 people in 2019 to 3,271 in 2022. These figures, which include migrants who present themselves at a port of entry and those who are stopped by border patrol officers en route, are projected to rise even more this year. 

Many of these immigrants have landed on the well-groomed streets of Glendale, the beating heart of the Armenian diaspora in Los Angeles County. This idyllic community, desirable for its safety, walkability, and high-performing schools, has long been a sought-after area. For newcomers, the availability of public services in the Armenian language and the density of Armenian-owned businesses willing to hire them further support their integration process. 

Due to the influx of newly arrived Armenian youth, Woodrow Wilson Middle School in Glendale has quadrupled the number of courses for English-language learners, who now comprise one third of the student body. While the district does not collect data on student ethnicity, per the principal’s analysis of Armenian surnames, the school is at least 79% Armenian.

Data from all schools in the Glendale Unified School District shows that the number of new students born in Armenia who list Armenian as their primary language has more than tripled in two years, from 229 students in the 2020-2021 school year to 804 last year. 

Woodrow Wilson Middle School principal Narek Kassabian says, “When they arrive in a Glendale school, the process of acculturation slows down because they don’t need to acculturate. There are all these Armenians,” she says, adding, “What’s the difference between Yerevan and Glendale, really?”

In neighboring Burbank, John Muir Middle School has placed a cap on the enrollment of new students due to capacity restrictions, a highly unusual step for a public school. When Greg Miller took the helm as principal 12 years ago, the student population was roughly 35%Armenian. That number has since increased to 55%. 

“We joke around that if you go to Yerevan, they know the name of John Muir Middle School,” Miller says. “We had people come in who were like, ‘Oh yeah, we were told before we left Armenia that this was the school we needed to go to.’” 

Schools like Woodrow Wilson and John Muir have introduced various programs to serve the growing population of Armenian immigrant families. With new students enrolling nearly every week, Woodrow Wilson conducts monthly orientation sessions on the basics of classroom structure and academic expectations. John Muir has hired an Armenian-speaking parent liaison to serve as an ambassador between the school and its newly arrived families. 

Despite the robust community support system, Miller says immigrant students continue to face challenges. 

“They’re just struggling with being in America first, and in the school second,” Miller says. “Middle school is already hard enough without being new to the country and not speaking the language.” 

At the same time, many newcomers find their most formidable challenges are neither linguistic nor cultural, but financial. While California offers more generous social benefits than most other parts of the country, including Medi-Cal for all income-qualifying people regardless of their immigration status, it is also one of the most expensive states to live in. The immigration boom has exacerbated an acute housing crisis in Glendale, where the average rent for a one-bedroom apartment starts at $2,000 per month.  

“I think a lot of them did not expect the difficulties that they’re seeing here,” Mailyan says. “They don’t really understand that $1,000 here is not the same as $1,000 [in Armenia].” 

Mailyan says many of her Armenian clients do not appreciate the length of time it takes to obtain employment authorization, open a bank account, or even present their case before a judge. Some of her court hearings are scheduled as far ahead as 2028. But for parents of teenage boys in Armenia, enduring this precarious situation is preferable to sending their children to war. 

“If there is a family, and if they have a child that age, they’re willing to do everything and anything,” Mailyan says. “They sell their apartments, whatever they have, their cars, just to be able to get out of the country.” 

Sixteen-year-old Armen* is one of those boys. This Yerevan native spent three weeks in the Mexican border town of Tijuana before crossing into the U.S. alone. He was detained for 11 days. With a stoic demeanor and a deep voice that belies his young age, the teenager shares few details from his time in a detention center for unaccompanied minors. These facilities have come under scrutiny in recent years for their squalid conditions and rights violations. 

Now a student at Herbert Hoover High School in Glendale, Armen says life in America has been filled with surprises –– the people, culture –– but he feels more at ease despite lacking permanent legal status. In the aftermath of the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh War, in which nearly 4,000 soldiers were killed and scores remain missing, young Armenian men face growing anxiety about their compulsory two-year military service.  

“It is pretty much everyone’s dream to come here and stay,” Armen says about his peers in Armenia. “They know that the country isn’t peaceful, and there is that fear that if they go [to military service], they won’t come back.” 

Other immigrants, like Sona, felt they had no choice but to leave. The mother of three says she lived comfortably in Armenia, where both she and her husband held high-paying jobs and owned a home and car. 

“If we didn’t have problems, we would never have left our country because I am very patriotic, my husband even more so than I,” Sona says tearfully. “I love my Armenia so, so much but I just don’t love my government. I left my Armenia crying and until now I miss it.” 

Sona and her family presented themselves at the border using the CBP One mobile app. This  tool was introduced by the Biden administration to manage the daily flow of migrants requesting asylum. Since its launch, the app’s outdated interface has been riddled with technical glitches. The program is only available in English, Spanish, and Haitian Creole, and frequently crashes due to the sheer number of people vying for limited appointments. 

Despite its inefficiencies, Mailyan says this technology has made it easier than ever for people to enter the country. While only a small number will ultimately win their asylum cases –– only 14% of all claims nationwide and 25% of those filed by Armenian nationals were granted in 2023 –– the majority will languish for years in the legal system, and applicants will qualify for work permits while they wait. 

“With the Trump administration –– 2018, 2019 –– you had really strict border entry conditions,” Mailyan says. Under Biden’s new program, however, “it allows them to make an appointment once they’re in a border town in Mexico, and with the appointment they can pretty much approach a CBP officer of the United States and ask for asylum.”

Sona, whose youngest child was born in Los Angeles, expresses her gratitude to the U.S. government for granting her access to healthcare and public benefits. She has enrolled in an English-language course at Garfield College in Glendale, and is eager to start working so she may contribute positively to society. 

“As we lived well there, living here is very difficult at this stage,  because I am starting very much from zero,” Sona says. “Here, I feel very safe. I feel I am protected here. I feel that if something bothers me, I can appeal to someone who will help me… But that doesn’t exist [in Armenia]. And everyone knows that it doesn’t exist, not only me.”

When asked about his goals for the future, Armen, whose mother and sister remain in Armenia,  simply wishes to graduate from high school and reunite with his family. 

“My only dream at this stage is for my family to be by my side,” Armen says. 

*Name has been changed to protect the identity of the source.

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